How did I not die with you?
Dying is the state of my existence for the past few days – the emotional neurons of my brain firing degenerated signals from corroded synapses, pathways to my heart completely inundated with agony, each cell just dying from the inside out, each exploding in its personal supernova hell. Cell death. Emotional chaos.
Fireworks of what was once the color that saturated my world, bleeding and draining out of my life.
Destined now to tread painted water, already colorblind and unable to feel anything.
Deafening white noise and blinding back-lit memories.
I did die with you that day.
Shattered beyond recognition, all I could do was rebuild.
My descent into the underworld…
There as a blank slate, I quietly sat next to my secret that I’d hidden away for years. I looked my secret straight in the eyes and shook hands.
In death, you gave one last monumental gift -the greatest gift of strength and clarity to see who I was meant to be- the boy who was to leave a legacy.
This was so painfully beautiful.
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Thank you so much Shannon! Thank you for reading.
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💛💛💛
I can’t even begin to describe how much this poem touched me. My oldest just passed away 9/5/2020…he was only 25 years old. He was transgender (born female) and in the prime of his transition. I was so proud of who he was becoming. On 1/29/2021, our family honored his memory as it was the 1 year date since his top surgery. I can’t even believe he wasn’t here for it. He had a gift for writing and would’ve loved this poem too. 💛💛
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Aimee, I am so sorry you are going through such an incredible loss! I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose a child. He is still here in some form and I am sure he is so glad that he had you to support him and got to begin transition (as opposed to dying without ever having lived his true self).
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